


Dynamic

by bonehandledknife (ladywinter), Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)



Series: The Mountains Are The Same [20]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: (discussion of), Consent Issues, Gen, Implied/Referenced Dub-con, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalised EVERYTHING, There must be more breeders in the Citadel to give birth to all those warpups, breeders court
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 15:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4840133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywinter/pseuds/bonehandledknife, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/pseuds/Primarybufferpanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Dynamic—Climbing rope that elongates or stretches to absorb the impact of a fall. Opposite of static. Also, a climbing move in which the climber lunges or leaps to the next hold. Also called a "dyno move".</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Many sat up, a protective hand on her rounded belly. “Now wait just a minute, when you said you’d be making changes ya’ll said nothing about turnin’ us out with the Wretched!” She spat.</p><p>“The Wretched deserves to have respect as well,” Cheedo piped up with newfound steel, “They don’t deserve that tone.” Except she can see Many’s fears and she, too, knew what it’s like to cling to comfort and safety.</p><p>“And we deserve to be kicked out to Below?!”</p><p>“We said nothing about your being kicked out!” Toast frowned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dynamic

"How are things? The bar on the door make everybody feel better?" Toast asked Many, the representative from the Breeder quarters. It was late, and Cheedo kept yawning despite herself and she saw how everybody seemed exhausted after everything that had happened in the day, but none of their eyes seemed to drag with sleep. It felt like there was too much to do. They were holding another Council after checking in to see everyone's settled safe.

"Better ‘n the old guards," Many chuckled, settling down in a low chair carefully, her belly large and child-full. She accepted with a grateful nod a cup of water from Dag, who was passing it around to everyone in the circle as if it were tea. "Access t’us used to be tightly controlled - visitin’ us was a reward, y’see. Only when a crew'd done well."

"Well, without the enforcers to keep control, I'm glad we've been able to give you some other discouragement options." Toast nodded, Cheedo was glad that her sister had the idea and worked out both how to wedge the bar proper and lever it out easy.

"Least we can do until everybody has decided where they want to go," Capable said.

“ ‘Go’ ?” Many’s voice suddenly rose in alarm and suspicion. Cheedo had an awful feeling she might know where this was headed, but felt torn.

“Yes, leave the breeding quarters?” Toast asked.

"Y'want us to stop havin' pups? Won't you run out of Warboys?"

They stared at each other uncomprehendingly, and Gale spoke up, "We want you to stop bein' ‘breeders’.”

Many sat up, a protective hand on her rounded belly. “Now wait just a minute, when you said you’d be making changes ya’ll said nothing about turnin’ us out with the Wretched!” She spat.

“The Wretched deserves to have respect as well,” Cheedo piped up with newfound steel, “They don’t deserve that tone.” Except she can see Many’s fears and she, too, knew what it’s like to cling to comfort and safety.

“And _we_ deserve to be kicked out to Below?!”

“We said nothing about your being kicked out!” Toast frowned.

Many opened her mouth but Gale held up both hands, “If you want to take somebody to your bed, somebody you like, an' have a baby - that's different. The thing is, we’re not forcing you to have them as the price for shelter."

Cheedo sighed with relief that someone had the words for it; she didn’t want this fight between women who would be her sisters, who would be, perhaps, family.

"Huh." Many clearly needed a moment to work that through. "So you're not sending us back down?"

"To the Wretched? No!" Capable said quickly. "Nobody is getting turned out, whether you want to keep having babies or not.And we’re trying to find room and role in the towers for everybody."

"Right. Good. Reckon there's some girls who'll want t’learn weapons or cars or planting. Wouldn't mind working in th’gardens, myself." 

This made the Dag perk up and it was true, she needed the help. There were so many more they’d planned on feeding, Cheedo mused, and she’d wanted to give something extra to the War Pups who’d kept running around for her and listening where she couldn’t.

"All right, we can start finding new places for people tomorrow." Gale nodded.

"I'd like that. Weren't all bad though, you know," Many said. “Most of us come from—" she gestured to the window and down. "Havin’ a place outta the sun, enough food 'n Aqua Cola - worth it t’have pups for th’Immortan."

"Worth it to have hordes or Warboys come in to rape you?" Dag asked, her voice strained.

Many stared at her hard for a moment, “You’ve never truly starved before, have you? Never had to drink yer own piss until it turned too orange to drink.” She tsked, “If it was just one man? And he protected you from the other men and helped you carry your home for you?”

The sisters stared at her in incomprehension. Cheedo made a face at the idea of drinking piss.

“I had one. A man. Out in the Wastes,” Many said simply, “all told it’s better up here. A little bit of choice on when and who it is. Don't have t’see your babies starve or bleed outta ya because you were starvin’. Get to raise your babies, even if they get taken away when they get Named. Leastways they get more than a miserable month in the dust."

Dag stared at her with a conflicted twist on her face, and Toast’s jaw twitched from how hard she’s clenching it.

"And th’ breeding weren't so often, Corpus made sure of that. Most of the time it was just us and th’ babies in our own special quarters, nobody needin' to be hungry or thirsty. War Boys come and take them every Tenday, never much liked that, but ‘sides from that, we get to keep them until they're Named and Painted."

"They don't have names before then…?" Capable asked gently.

Many scowled.

"Of course they do. They have _our_ names. Story names. My oldest is Berai, the next Damarwulan. Then the Warboys take 'em from us and paint 'em white and call them things like Sump and Wrench." She sounded bitter.

"How is it decided when they're old enough?" Gale asked.

"When they can lift 'n hold th’ heavy wheel. They make 'em try every Tenday. Berai's been practicing with Aqua-Cola containers," she sighed. "Won't be long now till they take him from me."

"They won't," Capable said firmly. "Not like they used to.”

“They’ll fight you on that.”

"Probably," Toast agreed. "Worth fighting for though."

“Maybe not if we couch it right.” Capable insisted, “Maybe they'll take him for training, but they won't paint him up so you don't recognize him anymore, and we want to make it so he can at least visit you."

Many's eyes widened, and she nodded as she thought it over.

"How can you not hate the Warboys for doing that to you and your children?" Dag asked.

“Well, some of us do more’n’ me, you heard’em today. Others, well, they's just doing as the Immortan wishes, and we have to breed pups for the Immortan. How else would we get full bellies?" Many shrugged and took a sip of water. "An' they spared us some, too. The Imperators had access to us all the time not just occasionally like crew. Used to come and—" she clenched her jaw, then shook her head. "Some of 'em tired themselves out on their crew."

The listening women glanced at each other.

Dag thought about the injured Warboy who had quietly come up to her after the Tenday ceremony. He'd been tall, broad shouldered with fine eyes and a fine nose and lumps dotting his side among wrench scars. She'd had to fight not to take a reflexive step back when he leaned over on his crutch and bent close to her.

“You should keep sharing your stories.” He’d whispered. And his voice had shifted softer, “Perhaps one day it’ll— I can— I'll want to share mine.”

Dag had peered at him, at his apparently uninjured chest, at the lack of bandages or splints on his legs, at a certain tightness around his eyes and his mouth. Dag’d recognized that careful, ginger way of moving, recognized those eyes, that mouth, had seen them on the faces of her sisters after Joe'd left them. But this Warboy, he was pretty but he looked so strong that she didn’t know what to do with the sheer idea of it, despite how: “I’d always _did_ wonder if they—”

She had cut herself off.

Because even though the Dag is the one who said things that other people wouldn’t, she had taken pause at the suddenly wounded and hunted look on the warboy’s face, at the hand he’d reflexively threw up as if to ward her words.

Suddenly she’d been even more awkward, and small, and not knowing what to do with her sharp eyes and sharp elbows and sharp voice. They both shifted restlessly for a moment, looking at each other, not knowing what words to share between them that wouldn’t cause hurt.

He'd finally turned to Cheedo and asked, “Of the Imperators on the Gigahorse, y’say they’ve all died?”

“As far as we’ve seen.” Cheedo had replied, looking between them, back and forth.

“Good.” He'd nodded stiffly, one hand white-knuckled on the crutch, looking wobbly. “That’s— that’s… good.”

Dag looked at Cheedo now, in this circle of women, and reached out for her hand, because she herself felt wobbly at the memory. She took comfort in the fact that her hand was still met, despite her sharp edges.

"Most of the boys weren't cruel when they bred us." Many continued blithely. "We had some control, could match up girls with Warboys. Could usually give the rough ones t’girls who could take 'em.”

Cheedo gave Dag a queasy look.

“Found ways t’calm Boys down some before it got to breedin', talking a while or rubbing their shoulders, sort of thing. We have each other, we get by all right."

"You shouldn't have had to," Dag hissed, in the comfort of being right in this, at least."None of you should have been treated like _things!_ "

"We’re _breeders_ ," Many argued hotly, "Warboys gotta do war and Breeders gotta be bred. We're all tools of the Immortan, full-fillin' our purpose. Better a working spanner than scrap. Better a breeder than _dyin_ ' out there."

The sisters exchanged looks, trying not to interrupt. Toast and Dag stared at each other and nodded in stubborn agreement but Cheedo looked away even as she tightened her fingers.

“We can teach you better,” Dag said with head tilted up and chin sharp, “Miss Giddy’s lost to the winds but we’ve been taught by her. We can teach you.”

“We can loan you books,” Toast added, “They’ll help you see—”

They were interrupted by laughter. “Girls, d’you think any of us can make use of those Old World things even if we had ‘em?”

Toast closed her mouth slowly.

“We can teach you how to read,” Dag continued stubbornly, “It’s important to—”

“Know the words that dead white men have pressed into dead bleached trees?” Many challenged. “Know their white-painted histories? What about _our_ stories? Do they matter to you?”

“Of course your stories do but—”

“Then do your books know of the ‘ _The land’s slipping away; Where shall man find an abiding-place?_ ’ Do y’know ‘ _Real things in the darkness seem no realer than dreams_ ’ or of ‘ _The seven sisters and the man named Wurrunnah_ ’ ?” Many glared at them until their mouths shut, “We’ve breeders sung the stories to each other for thousands of days beyond your memory, songs and words that’ve survived since the death of the world. _Don’t try t’tell us that we know nothing_.”

Cheedo knew the sing-song of a person reciting a loved text like she knows her sisters’ voices; they are one and the same. She heard the same notes of love in Many’s voice reciting the passages and they were, truly, none, of them in any of the books the sisters’ve learned from. She found herself wishing for the rest of these stories even as her face burned from her presumptions, and when she tilted her face at Dag, the blond was flushed too, ruddy dots on her cheekbones and mouth tight, eyes averted.

Many seemed to read their faces, and sighed, slashing her hand through the air as if to wipe things away, "Besides, Furiosa, she made things better, when she made Imperator. Told her boys to be kind with us. Told us to tell her if they weren't. Few times we did, they never came to us again. Pretty sure she ended the son of the Imperator Prime."

There’d been a small uproar in the upper tiers as Prime's son had gone missing, Toast remembered, but nothing had come from it. The boy had been known to sneak the ferments since young, and no one had really felt able to speak up and stop him; not wanting to get in Prime’s crosshairs.

"Any way, most of us didn't mind getting a visit from her crew." She had a faraway look in her eyes for a few moments, then shook herself and chuckled. "She had this lancer, Guzzer, I took a shine to him. He'd come to me all painted up fresh, wouldn't look at anyone else. Said my name. Made me feel special. Made strong pups, too, and sweet-natured as can be. Damarwulan is one of his, and the next two too." She paused, and when she continued she sounded like she felt she was blaspheming. "Sad Guzzer's gone to Valhalla, I wouldn't have minded making another pup with him. They say it was the chromest death he could've wished for though."

Capable hummed in sympathy and Cheedo met her eyes. They hadn't expected that these kinds of bonds would have formed, but if nobody understood that the situation they'd been put in wasn't right, there wasn't a lot of blame going around, apparently.

"There was a lotta talk about her takin' her crew up to her quarters, but we'd known for a while. Some point they started askin' us what we liked, what felt good. Tryin' things with us, you know? Tryin' to learn for her."

Cheedo squirmed a little, remembering the tacit admission the bigger of the two Warboys the day before. How could Furiosa possibly want— 'her crew' meant not just _one._ All Cheedo could picture was a mass of white-painted bodies covering Furiosa. How could she stand it? Had she truly wanted so many hands on her or had it been… a way to control them? Like Angharad had sometimes smiled at Joe and told him she'd missed him, so she could steer him away from any of the others, control what he would do that night? Like Dag had, to keep him from touching Cheedo?

But she'd seen Furiosa curled up with her crew, had seen her reach for them. It must have been different. Maybe not so bad as Joe? That was confusing because Joe had always said that if they displeased him, he'd give them to his Boys and then they'd learn how good he was to them. That he was the only thing keeping them safe and treasured, that they should be grateful for his protection.  

" _If we wanted to make her feel good we had to be as gentle as the Immortan_ ," Capable quoted softly. "That's what the angry one said."

"Kompass," Cheedo supplied. "Furiosa's third, the Pups say, right after the Ace." She still struggled to believe that Warboys would care about making anybody feel good, even if it had only been these particular ones. It went against everything she'd ever been told about Warboys.

Toast shook her head. "Still can't believe they thought the old bastard was _gentle_ ,"

"If the fixed point in their world is that Joe is good, everything else falls into line with that," Gale said. "Even if it takes mental gymnastics."

"Was. Pretty sure that fixed point got kicked over today," Dag said.

"That's why Janey's making the rounds, seeing how the mood is tonight," Gale nodded. "Can't say how safe it'll be for any of you to go 'round alone, right now."

"Weren't plannin' on it," Many said.

"How do we teach all those people that somebody can say no to…" Toast spat, " 'breeding'?"

"It's hard to learn not to treat other people like things when you're a thing yourself," Capable said. "Maybe Furiosa can help get it through to them. Her boys seem to get it, at least a little."

Toast scoffs, “At least enough to stay mostly quiet and listen, or to make others listen, even if they look confused about it and ask questions that make me want to shoot them.”

"They're…" a voice interrupted, catching on itself. They looked up to see Janey walk in. She looked tired - they all did, but hers look fresh seeping. "I think we could all do with remembering that they're working with less resources than we are in specific places."

She dropped down in a chair and accepted a cup of water with a nod of thanks.

"You had time to grow into the thought of Joe being what he was." She looked at the sisters, who nodded reluctantly. "You had each other to talk to, Miss Giddy to help you find words." Her hand rubbed at her forehead, “Most of those I talked to seemed surprised to be asked for their feelings and then struggled to voice them. The few who did whispered them like they were ashamed of it or something, like they didn’t have a right to have them if the feelings were anything but Confidence or Certainty or, what was it they call it? Kamacrazy?”

She took small sips of water, looking at the cup astonished as if still not used to being able to have a refill.

"They've had this change dropped on their heads, and they're not used to thinking much beyond the practical. Their entire world just upended; it's gonna take some time, and not just the three days we’ve had."

“Nux figured it out in half a day,” the Dag pointed out.

"Did he, really? Or did he just go along with things because that was his only option?" Janey clicked her tongue in thought.

“We _did_ have to shove him off the Rig first,” Capable admitted quietly. "And Joe himself called him ‘mediocre’."

“So his place in the Citadel was pretty much gone anyway." Toast nodded.

"Did you talk to anybody in specific that made you think all this?" Gale asked Janey.

"One of Furiosa's boys, the one who lead the ceremony."

"Kompass. The one who said we must not have been worthy of Joe's good treatment," Toast spat.

"Mm. I think he probably feels different about that today. I got the sense that he, and probably the others, projected all the good things and the right things they could think of onto Joe. And that he's discovering that the real Joe was a different person from the one he constructed in his head."

"He did say that they'd imagined how Joe would have treated Furiosa, and then did what they'd imagined…"

The sisters exchanged glances and almost as one cringed or shivered and Toasts look near to burning a hole in the floor.

“ ‘How Joe treated Furiosa?’ Maybe the schlangers didn’t know him like we did, but even the _thought_ that they could— that they could _think_ to model themselves after him to ‘treat her right’,” Dag looked unable to continue.

"It says something about how they feel about her that they couldn't imagine anybody not treating her kindly," Capable said.

"It says something about how naive they are." Dag corrected.

“Sometimes I wonder if the only reason Nux started to listen was because he’d been hurt by him too,” Capable said, “And he’d still try to say that the only reason he had the skills he did, the life he’s had, was ‘by the Immortan’s hand’.”

“That warboy mentioned ‘being made in his image’.” The Vuvalini hummed.

“You have these half-lives half-right,” Many finally spoke up again, eyes thoughtfully drifting from person to person, “You may have walked among them for these three days but you’ve mostly dealt with Joe… they all look at him as a reason, but the worse ones look at him also as an _excuse_. Ya’ll talk of this ‘they’, and of these ‘others’; say their names like we wish that they would say ours, they’re not all the same. That’s,” she drifted, thinking, “That’s a dangerous way to live. Get hurt that way.”

“But how do we,” Cheedo struggled with the words a little, the rushed forward on finding them, “how do we deal with them then? If we’re to make a Green Place?”

“I’m not sayin’ they’re all dangerous, they’re… some of them’s like Guzzer, or Kompass, or The Ace. They _try_ , even if they don't have the right tools. Some… don’t bear mentioning. And you can’t—” she clicked her tongue in thought, “There isn’t just _one_ way to deal with them, or one way that they think, or one reason they’re the way they are. If there was, you’d think they’d all keep more memories of when we’ve all raised them for those precious thousand days before they’re taken away, but they don’t.”

Many’s face looks torn at the admittance, “We try but, when they come back, our sons to breed the younger ones of the court, they don’t admit to when they were babes barely at all. Those that do, it’s like dragging a wreck from the sand; kept saying some version of Joe saying it was soft to even mention that time.”

“And what’s wrong with being soft?” Dag demanded.

“ _Nothin'_ , unless it's been drilled out of you since you’ve first seen two thousand days. They. They’re shamed for soft things, kindnesses. They’re luxuries and War boys scoff at those, at anythin' not tough. Guzzer would be sweet t’me and tell me not to tell anyone, and if Furiosa’s crew attributed kindness to Joe, instead of themselves?” Many gives a wry laugh and looks at her fingers weaving against each other, “That does explain things. Even if gallin’.”

"I think they care about Furiosa a lot, even if they have no words for it. Maybe they couldn't imagine anybody hurting her, so obviously the man they looked up to couldn't have."

"Her crew may be the best inroad we have. They're well respected," Cheedo said. "The Pups say her crew was a legend. They’d asked that warboy to lead out of all the others."

They looked up as Max entered, hesitating just inside the doorway. Capable sent him a smile and gestured invitingly.

"The old Boy, Ace," Gale contined, "We need to talk to him."

Many nodded, “As good a place as any, that one’s dedicated.”

“Loyal enough to listen to hard truths?” Toast asked, “I noticed he wasn’t at the ceremony today.”

Max made a sound, and they turned to him. “He’d, ah, was with Furiosa. And me. Was protective, but broken.” Max fidgeted and then looked back up at them, “Had a conversation, think that none of them make sense if y’don’t remember… She uh, she betrayed them. For the escape," he looked around. "Left them for dead."

"You think she's in danger?"

"No-no, not from them. But they have a lot of," he made a vague hand gesture, "They still feel loyal, or want to, despite that. Might be making them more broken."

"They were the collateral damage." Janey nodded.

" 'She betrayed them' for _us_ ," Cheedo whispered, “the ones when we first set out, they gave their lives for her.”

“They’re used to being Battle Fodder."

"For Joe ." Gale said. "They were sacrificed for something very different, a very many of them. They bled for something, and now we're saying that none of that meant anything. Now they're trying to be okay with the new thing after protecting and investing so much effort into something... that turned sour," the Vuvalini’s face turned distant.

"Or turned meaningless." Janey nodded, looking suddenly ancient as well. “ We'd do well to remember that they were also wronged, if differently. And they have a right to be hurt.”

“I still think they'll listen to the Ace best. Maybe the rest of the crew would catch him up?” Cheedo suggested.

“About what happened today? All that was said?” Dag asked, “Do you think they would even know enough to repeat it?”

There was a long silence.

“We’d have to see, I think,” Capable admitted quietly.

The sisters sat there with the enormity of the change they were attempting weighing on them. The lack of Angharad and Miss Giddy and Furiosa feeling like an empty space in the room that they did not know quite how to fill with their own presence. But none of the three were here right now, due to death or disappearance or injury, and there was so much to be _done_. There was no time to spare, they _must_ act and they _must_ hurry. Cheedo would cry with it, but she didn’t have the energy.

They all sat there feeling the future pressing down.

“Mmm, yesterday you’d mentioned having me scout,” Max said to Toast, “Figure it’s still needed but, hm, wonderin’ if anything’s been set.”

Toast nodded and Capable waved him up and they all stood up to step closer to the lone flickering light source, wobbling as the reserves from that day’s wind ran down. He’d taken out a bit of cloth and they were all peering at it in the dimness, discussing where Max would be going.

Cheedo looked at them for a bit, and then turned back to their circle, Janey looking heartsore and Gale pensive. Many had been sitting quietly, observing them all. Cheedo and Dag exchanged a glance and then Dag nodded at her, so Cheedo took a breath.

“So, the seven sisters that you’d mentioned,” Cheedo asked slowly, “is it based on the seven stars?”

“How do you know?” Many blinked at her.

“There’s other stories based on them but, I mean they’re all sort of different.” Cheedo darted her eyes around, “I think… I think we would like to hear your story too. If you’re not too tired?”

Faces curious, Janey and Gale turned towards Many who seemed to preen a little with the attention.

“I think there’s still enough time in this evening to tell it,” Many replied, looking pleased, clearing her throat, “it begins when ‘Wurrunah had had a long day's hunting, and he came back to his camp…’”

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Thread on the kinkmeme this is partially inspired by](http://madmaxkink.dreamwidth.org/450.html?thread=1029058#cmt1029058).
> 
> [The Australian story of the seven stars](http://www.sacred-texts.com/aus/alt/alt13.htm).
> 
> "[The land’s slipping away](https://books.google.com/books?id=di0ZAAAAIAAJ&pg=PA117&lpg=PA117&dq=The+land%E2%80%99s+slipping+away;+Where+shall+man+find+an+abiding-place?&source=bl&ots=0udDu0_PCx&sig=93Ik08whq1W39ri1EYq3EAEyIiw&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0CB4Q6AEwAGoVChMI-cjiw6yHyAIVFSqICh1MRgFn#v=onepage&q=The%20land%E2%80%99s%20slipping%20away%3B%20Where%20shall%20man%20find%20an%20abiding-place%3F&f=false); Where shall man find an abiding-place?" - A Maori Waikato war-song, also sung at assemblies and councils.
> 
> [Real things in the darkness seem no realer than dreams.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Tale_of_Genji) \- The Tale of Genji. Given that "It is sometimes called the world's first novel, the first modern novel, the first psychological novel or the first novel still to be considered a classic" and... written by a woman. Given the length though, I'm not sure that any one person remembers the whole of it.
> 
> That warboy is totally [young Jason Momoa](https://www.google.com/search?q=young+jason+momoa&es_sm=91&biw=1103&bih=962&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0CAYQ_AUoAWoVChMIn_DJmcyHyAIVT1GICh3tagi6).
> 
> Totally thinking of Vietnam and its vets during the Battle Fodder section, if that helps.


End file.
